by K. A Knight
He thrusts up with a groan as I clench my thighs together, turned on, until I’m rocking against the carpeted floor of his car. He tastes like man and sin and I can’t get enough. I bob my head up and down, speeding up, my hand clenching hard, making Keanu grunt and groan as he fucks my mouth.
His hand is rough and hard in my hair, yanking me up and down as he tries to control the pace, but then I resist and keep going, down, down until my lips meet my hand, my saliva dripping down his cock as I deep throat him. I watch as his mouth drops open in shock and he stares down at me.
“Brat,” he begs as I stay there, resisting his tugging, and then I lift my head and do it again and again, swallowing him deep and fast, making sure to catch my teeth on him as I go. He grunts again and again, thrusting helplessly into my mouth, no control now. It’s hard, dirty, and fast.
My cheeks ache, but I keep going, loving his lack of control, the helplessness swirling in his eyes as he gives me everything. He thought he had control of me, he was so wrong. He wants to play dirty, then so will I. His other hand grabs at his shirt, jerking it up as he fucks my mouth, his body arching off the seat as he flashes me hard, defined abs, making me drool around him.
My other hand comes up as I suck his cock and I roll his balls gently, cupping then, squeezing them. He’s close, I can tell, his hand twisting deeper in my hair, his thrusts losing rhythm until, with a yell, he explodes in my mouth. Our eyes clash as I swallow his release, every last drop, and as I pull my mouth off his cock I lick the tip, cleaning him before I sit back and wipe my mouth.
“You should know by now, you can never control me,” I whisper huskily.
He’s breathing hard, his shirt askew, his pants unbuckled, and his softening cock still out as I smirk up at him. He watches me, his eyes darkening again with need. He might crave control, but he loves the chaos I provide, that’s for damn sure.
“Get on your knees,” I fire back at him, only partially joking. I need to come something fierce and I’m sick of his teasing.
He crooks his finger at me and I arch my eyebrow, instead climbing over him and lying back against the other seats, my legs draped over his lap as I part my thighs and run my hand up the inside until I meet my pussy, and as he watches I spear myself with them, fucking myself with my fingers.
He turns to observe me, his leg coming up and crossing over the other, his arm stretching across the back of the seats like we’re discussing the fucking weather, not like he’s watching me fuck myself—all apart from his eyes, which are on fire, his tongue licking at his lips.
I groan as I stare at him, arching my chest up as my other hand rolls my nipple through my shirt. My eyes close, the pleasure too much as I rub my clit, my pussy so fucking wet. I add another finger and start fucking myself for real, pushing up into my hand, using his lap as leverage as I thrust, chasing my orgasm.
“Harder,” he orders, and I oblige him, thrusting harder. “Good girl, let me see.”
My eyes fly open to watch him move closer. Feeling mean, I pull my fingers from my pussy and lean up and coat his lips in my cream. He stills as I grin at him and then licks them clean, groaning as he tastes me, and then suddenly, he’s on top of me, pressing my back to the seat, his hand ripping at the shirt, and yanking it away as his lips close around one of my nipples through my bra. I yell, my hands digging into his shoulder as I wrap my legs around him, still rocking, on the edge of coming just from his mouth.
His fingers skate down my stomach and cover the skirt, which is bunched up around my waist, and slip down my pussy, brushing my clit before he dips them inside me. Then he moves back and paints my own lips with my cream and covers them with his, kissing me hard, my tangy taste between us as our tongues tangle.
I jerk my mouth away. “Please,” I whisper against his lips, beyond the point of caring now. All rational thought is gone, apart from the lust racing through me, the need, the bone deep need to come. To lose myself in his hands and mouth.
Craving the feel of his body on mine, of the love you experience in that moment, how powerful you feel...something I desperately need when my life is spiralling. “Please,” I plead again.
“Good girl,” he coos, before crawling down my body and lying between my thighs. My hands go to his hair, pulling him to me like he did, and he goes willingly. The first touch of his lips against my pussy makes me groan and arch up. He throws my legs over his shoulder as his fingers dip back inside me, curling as he strokes me, his tongue lashing my clit before he sucks it. Making me yell as I writhe, fucking myself against his face. He grins then, I feel it, and I narrow my eyes, but before I can shout at him, he starts to fuck me with his fingers, his tongue lapping at me like he can’t get enough.
Pushing me higher, I’m spiralling, and pleasure erupts from my very toes, coming at his command. “Keanu,” I cry, and he adds another finger, scissoring them as he nips my clit, the feel of his teeth undoing me.
I throw my head back, the pleasure too much, too full as I fall apart.
When I come to, I slump into the seat, his tongue still circling my clit lazily as he cleans me, his fingers inside me. “Again,” he orders, and I groan, my head thrashing from side to side.
“I can’t,” I tell him, and he lifts his head to glare at me.
“You can and you will,” he snaps, his fingers pulling out and ramming back inside as he leans down and licks softly at my oversensitive clit.
“No,” I whimper, even as I push closer, that line between pleasure and pain blurring as he forces me back up again.
He fucks me, harder and faster, his tongue dipping inside me, making me cry out, and before I know it I’m coming again, my legs shaking from the force, my eyes darkening, and when I come back to Earth, I’m breathing hard. I watch as he sits back with a smug look on his face and he brings his hand up, the moon’s rays catching on my cream glinting on his fingers. His gaze still locked on me, he licks them clean, his eyes closing as he groans.
“So fucking good, such a good girl,” he whispers as he grins at me, then he buttons up his trousers, pushing his hard cock back inside and doing the belt as I lie there, unable to move.
Holy fuck, I need to push him more often.
“Time to go back to work,” he tells me coolly, and then he pulls down my shirt and rights my skirt for me, the movements almost caring, but that can’t be true...Keanu and I are enemies who simply want each other. He doesn’t care like that...does he?
I sit up and brush back my hair, pretending to be cool as I flash him a smile. “Let’s.”
Chapter Sixteen
Keanu
That night when we got back, I went straight to bed without talking to her. We’re going to investigate the bar tomorrow night, but tomorrow during the day I’ll be working on accounts and tracking down the man from the video. So with the taste of her still on my tongue, I shut and lock my door, keeping her out, and collapse on my bed in my suit.
What is that woman doing to me?
She had pushed me earlier, I knew she was doing it on purpose, and it enraged me and made me snap. I crossed that line again, the one I promised I wouldn’t to keep her safe. But fuck, she felt so good, tasted so good, and when she fell apart in my arms, I knew that once would never be enough. I want her in my arms, in my bed. I need her screams ringing through my ears and her nails clawing at my back.
I want her.
Fuck! She had been so hot, her mouth around my cock...the thought has me hard again, wishing I could unlock that door and throw her onto the mattress and sink into that tight little pink pussy. She had surprised me, something that never happened before she came along. That dirty little girl had swallowed me deep and forced me to let go, forced me to come. I was just going to teach her a lesson, show her who was in charge, I was going to fuck her mouth a little, but then pull out and buckle back up, leaving her disappointed and wet and me in control...she shattered that.
I couldn’t help it, her hands...her tongue...her mouth...even those fucking eyes dari
ng me to fuck her harder, to use her mouth. It undid me. And I did the one thing I didn’t plan on doing—show her how vulnerable I am when coming. Jesus, fuck.
Scrubbing at my face, I rip open my shirt and strip off, getting back into bed when I’m wearing nothing. How can one woman drive me so crazy? We won’t work, we’re the total opposites, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to try, from wanting to enjoy it while I can. I should push her away, piss her off and disgust her so much so she leaves and never comes back...but I know she’s determined to keep hunting. To find that woman...Alena?
She won’t stop, we have that in common.
So for now, just while this case is open, we stick together...maybe I should enjoy it while I can?
Body consumed with need, I fall into a deep sleep, each scene from tonight playing out in my head, but in my dream I fuck her in my back seat. Like a montage or a dirty movie, it plays out, and when I wake up early the next morning, I’m still tired and my cock is rock solid from the porno that my dreams depicted.
Groaning, I throw my arm over my eyes. She’s going to be the death of me.
She’s trying to piss me off again, I can tell. I ignore her the best I can as I run the plates again and follow them, once more looking for clues as she double-checks the victim list and the bars we know are a part of it.
She keeps brushing against me, making comments, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore her, but that’s not the only thing getting hard...she’s wearing my fucking shirt. One of my white ones and nothing else, the top buttons undone to display her cleavage, and it trails just below her pert ass, showing me those legs that drive me crazy, the toned, tan skin on display, making me imagine them wrapped around my neck again...or this time my waist as I fuck her on my desk.
Shaking my head, I focus back on the screen with a grunt, blocking her ass, I fall into the world online like always. When I lean back to crack my neck, hours have passed and she’s still busy working. Our next step is the bar. I have hits out on the man in the video and I think I’ll have an address by tomorrow at the latest. He’s hard to track, that’s for sure, but no one can hide from me for long. Until then, there isn’t much we can do. We don’t have many leads, but it seems better to keep looking, it keeps me distracted from the vixen in the room with me.
“Food,” I blurt, and then almost wince when she turns to me, the marker held between her teeth, her eyebrow raised in question, but my eyes catch on her mouth, remembering the way it wrapped around my cock like it’s wrapped around the pen.
“What?” she asks, confused, not that I blame her.
“It’s time for food,” I explain, my voice rough as I shift in my chair and rearrange my cock, the annoying bastard.
“Sure,” she says slowly, looking back at her map. “Let me just finish this.” Then she ignores me, making it look easy. Fuck, how does she do it? I’m aware of every breath she takes, every time she shifts, every moment of her, yet she can blank me that easily?
Getting up, I storm away before I do something stupid just to get a reaction from her like a toddler. I decide to make dinner instead, only sandwiches today, and when she comes down, I’m already eating.
“Thanks.” She nods, she has been like this all morning. Normal...almost civilised...fuck. Why do I prefer the wild woman more? The one that pushes me? Fights me? Pisses me off? I can’t help but stare at her, wondering what’s changed…
“You look like shit,” I comment, and she looks up at me. She doesn’t, but I want to see what her reaction will be.
“Sure, is that why you’re toting around a hard-on the size of a baseball bat?” she counters, her eyes sparkling and lips tilting up, the most life I’ve seen in her since she strolled into my office.
“You could look like shit and my cock wouldn’t care,” I admit, and she sighs.
“Charming, has anyone ever told you that?” she deadpans, and carries on eating, her eyes on me.
“All the time, women seem to love me,” I fire back. Today, it’s me looking for a fight, but I don’t know why.
Her eyes cloud for a moment, her lips thinning, and I almost cheer at the jealousy I spot before it disappears. So the brat does care. Why does that make me happy?
“Sure, that’s why I got you a grow your own girlfriend and Max almost got you a blow-up doll...women must be waiting in lines outside,” she taunts, and takes a bite of her sandwich, moaning dramatically, and my cock jerks in my pants. She watches me as she dabs at a spot of mayo on her lip and licks it from her thumb. “Thought so.” She laughs before sliding from the stool, sandwich still in hand, and heads back upstairs like she lives here...the strange thing is, I’m getting used to having her here...in my house.
In my sanctuary, like she belongs inside it with me.
The bar is exclusive. That’s what I tell myself as I glance over at Nadia as we pull up outside. How she has a membership or can get in, I don’t know and I don’t ask.
We’re working, I repeat, especially when I round the corner to the valet who’s opening her door for her. She slides out, the short, red, backless dress exposing all that tanned skin. I want to throw her back inside and fuck her in the back seat again.
It sparkles under the bright lights of the bar, the night sky filled with stars that can’t possibly outshine her. High black heels wrap around her feet and tie around her calves. I don’t know where to look, so instead I lay my palm on the small of her exposed back and lead her to the golden double door with security and doormen waiting there for us.
We at least look the part, her in the dress and heels, and me in the grey suit and tie, so when we approach they don’t look surprised. In fact, the doorman seems to recognise Nadia and opens it instantly with a friendly smile. I glance at her in question and she winks at me, heading inside with me following after her.
I stay close, for her protection of course, as she leads us through a marbled lobby of what looks like a hotel, and through an open archway and down some steps. Only then do I hear the music, which isn’t as loud as a normal club, more sultry. We step into a bar area and I blink in shock—no wonder it’s members only.
A singer in a long, silver dress is singing live on a small stage at the back, and a bar runs along the left wall with two bartenders in waistcoats serving fancy drinks and cocktails. Women in dresses with trays walk through the tables scattered across the floor, while men in suits and women in expensive dresses and jewels dripping from their forms artfully litter the area.
To the right is a raised space filled with sofas and tables. It’s very upmarket and filled with snobs and rich bastards. I fight the urge to crinkle my nose as she leads me to the bar, leans onto the undoubtedly imported wood, and flags down a bartender.
I’m comfortable in any place because I have to be, my job demands it, but I hate rich people. Their money makes them think they own the world, more often than not they are the reason behind my missions, pulling strings, thinking everything can be bought…
They aren’t wrong, a lot can.
Not me.
One of the bartenders leans across the bar to hear her, ignoring me, his eyes on her chest, and I fight the urge to shoot him in the face. “Whisky on the rocks, please,” she purrs, fluttering her lashes at him. “He will have the same.” I raise my eyebrows at her ordering for me and the man nods, grinning at Nadia as he grabs the good whisky, pours her two drinks, and passes them over.
“On the house, darlin,” he tells her in a flirty tone, winking before he’s called away farther down the bar.
“Dead man,” I mutter, and she looks at me.
“What?” she questions.
“Nothing,” I mumble, and sip the whisky, hating that it’s the good stuff.
She leads us to a table up top then, and I slip in with my back to the wall so I can watch the room, she slides in next to me, her legs over mine as she leans back and watches people as well.
“Know who we’re looking for?” she asks quietly, draping her arm over my shoulder, and
leaning in so her mouth is almost pressed to my ear and we can’t be overheard.
“Yes,” I reply, hiding my words behind my glass. “But first, I want to watch. This place was the first to be hit, with two girls taken in the same night. I want to observe for a while. I’ve already hacked the cameras and erased us from tonight.”
She nods, leaning her face on my shoulder so she can watch the others. She smells good enough to eat. All sweet and dark and her skin is warm against mine, her leg propped over my hard cock and pressing there, teasing me even as we’re working.
She goes quiet then, analysing the crowd as we sip our drinks to blend in. Every now and again, she turns to me and pretends to talk and laugh, stroking my shoulder...she’s good. She assimilates without sticking out, fades but is overlooked.
“See anyone?” she inquires after a while, her hand stroking my chest now and moving lower. I stay still and don’t bother stopping her. I could, we don’t need to for the act, but I find myself liking the touch, the idea of us being like this, flirting, teasing...especially if it wasn’t a job. Maybe the job makes it hotter. They say don’t mix work and pleasure, but I find myself doing just that and I don’t care.
A job has never been so much fun, or not as lonely. I’ve spent years perfecting my trade, becoming the best, killing and hunting until it all blurred together. It wasn’t a challenge anymore, this, with her and the kidnappers, it is, and for the first time in a long time...maybe even since my parents died...I feel alive.
“See the man at the table in the middle? Pinstripe suit, dark blond hair?” I whisper, my arm wrapping around her and pulling her close as I nuzzle her neck, making her gasp and I smirk.
“Yes?” she murmurs, her voice foggy with lust.
“That’s Henry Fitz the third, owner and proprietor. It’s him we will be talking to if nothing else,” I inform her quietly, and then drop a kiss over her racing pulse. She shivers against me, so I do it again and she gasps, her hand gripping my chest.
